Shapeshifter of Winterfell
by morganiam
Summary: Sansa had always loved songs about knights and fair ladies. She dreamed of one day having a handsome husband, beautiful children of her own, and the honor of being crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by an attractive knight. Sansa was, in all senses of the word, romantic.  Her priorities changed when she turned 12.


Chapter 1: A Building Fever

Sansa had always loved songs about knights and fair ladies. She dreamed of one day having a handsome husband, beautiful children of her own, and the honor of being crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by an attractive knight. Sansa was, in all senses of the word, romantic.

She knew that in her world, she must be a certain way, so she could achieve her romantic aspirations. Have talents in womanly pursuits; music, sewing, and dancing – in conjunction with beauty and grace. Sansa strived to be like her mother, someone who excelled at many of those things, if not all.

She craved her mother's approval above all else and did her best to act just like her, so she could also one day too, have a wonderful castle and children.

Her priorities changed when she turned 12.

Sansa became distracted by headaches during sewing circles and her embroidery became messier. She also found herself tripping frequently over nothing and waking up in a fever, from the strangest dreams. Dreams of herself running wildly through the woods.

When she brought up her worries to her mother, it was explained as the starting of her womanhood.

Womanhood excited Sansa. Once she flowered, all of her dreams would be in her grasp. She would become betrothed to a handsome lord – who would love her and give her 5 children. She began to mull over names for those future children, when she was hit with a wave of dizziness.

"Sansa, pay attention! This is most unlike you - what are you dozing off for?!" Septa Mordane chided her. Although, it lacked the stern scolding tone Arya would usually receive when she didn't pay attention. It was instead, laced with slight worry. Sansa shook her head trying to fight off the light-headedness.

"I-I'm sorry Septa. I must have stayed up much too late."

Her Septa nodded in acceptance and proceeded to return to the lesson on embroidering a dire wolf - the sigil of their house.

Arya huffed loudly in her corner and started mumbling about favoritism. Sansa ignored her barbed comments and tried to focus again on her piece of embroidery. Attempting to follow along with the lesson.

After two hours of sewing, the sigil was mostly complete. It was nowhere near as beautiful as her mother's work, but it had its charms.

The fur of the wolf was silver and it was lined with simple beading, the eye - a single amber bead. Sansa ran her hands over it, entranced with her own work. There was something so captivating about the dire wolf - something subconsciously called out to her. Her fingers continued to stroke the wolf's fur longingly.

"Why, Sansa, this is beautiful, even when you're tired - to create such a wonderful piece!"

Sansa jumped, as if she was caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. She barely managed to get a grip on her surprise, before Arya angrily threw her messy embroidery on the ground, got up out of her chair, and trod fiercely to the door.

With Sansa momentarily forgotten, the Septa shouted at the dark haired girl walking away in a temper.

"Lady Arya, you come back here right now! We still need to talk about your piece and what you need to improve on!" Septa Mordane's cheeks grew ruddy and her grey wimple shook with every word she uttered.

"I don't care - it's not as good as _Perfect_ Sansa's anyway - even when she's doing it practically half-asleep!" Arya cried over her shoulder, before running off in the direction of the courtyard – where their brothers usually trained.

Septa Mordane sighed heavily in frustration. "What am I going to do with that girl?"

Her question, while mostly rhetorical, seemed directed at Sansa - who had no idea how to respond. Sansa's best friend, Jeyne, sent her an amused look from her place beside her.

"Well, never-mind. Girls, although Arya's gone, shall we still go over both your works?"

* * *

It's dark (the hour of the wolf), snow crunches beneath her feet. She can barely feel the bite of the cold around her, but she can smell it. She can smell everything, in fact.

The fresh scent of stream water and the fishy smell of the trout that swim in the river. The crisp smell of evergreen trees, and the gamey smell of the squirrels making their home there. She feels the urge to run like she never has before.

The wild part of her, she's always buried deep inside, just gives into it.

The sound and feeling of the wind in her ears as she runs, is better than any song she's ever heard. She feels so free...

She doesn't know how long she's been running for, but her breathing has become labored and the faint metal taste sits in her throat.

She stops.

A grove of weirwood trees stand in front of her. Their red leaves swaying in the cold breeze.

Sansa's eyes immediately focus on the smallest tree in the little grove. A dawning sense of horror starts to creep up on her when she sees its face.

It looks as if it was frozen mid-scream, sap pouring out its mouth like blood, its eyes bulging, as if they might fall out of its head. Sansa backs up in terror. A scream, not her own, echoes into the night.

She turns and runs as fast as she can. The scene around her begins to melt like wax on a candle. Darkness surrounds her.

* * *

Sansa woke up. Her breath started to come out in hysterical pants. She held her delicate hand to her chest in an effort to calm herself down.

She almost immediately wanted to go to her mother and tell her everything about the dream. Before, the dreams were just running in the woods, it was the first time it had turned so sinister.

She started to get out of bed but soon realized that her mother would likely want to take her to the maester. If the maester knew, it would only be a matter of time until Arya would, as well. She would tease her endlessly. That was enough to pause her.

Sansa was almost a woman now. She could handle a bad dream or two on her own. She was no longer a child! She repeated this multiple times inside her head, until she felt it begin to sink in.

With that settled, Sansa crawled back into her bed.

She didn't fall asleep again until much later. At least not before placing the covers over her head, as if it was a shield from anything that might come for her from the darkness of her room.

* * *

The dreams continued almost every couple nights, and Sansa rarely slept. It was not helping her with her already clumsy, fever, and headache prone self. She started to wonder if she needed to see the tree she keeps dreaming about in real life. It was crazy, but she felt desperate.

So, she convinced her father to take her to the godswood - stating her interest in the old gods as an excuse. He seemed skeptical at first, probably because she was always closest to her mother who deeply believed in the Faith of the Seven.

She exclaimed indignantly, "I'm not just a fish, I'm also a wolf!" in order to get him to take her. It seemed to amuse him enough to consent.

He took her the next day.

The godswood was more beautiful than her hazy memory of it. She hadn't been there for a few years – not since she turned 7. The place seemed so mystical and otherworldly. Sometimes, Sansa secretly believed a little more in the old gods than the Seven – although she would never tell her mother that.

Her father and her sat at the base of the lake and began their quiet contemplation.

While in her prayers, Sansa searched the grove of trees. Only a single weirwood tree stood in the godswood, the face on the tree was different too. Disturbing in its own way, but not as terrifying as the tree from her dreams. Not to mention, there was never just one heart tree in the grove, there was always seven - the smallest tree always located in the middle.

Once they both finished their contemplation, Sansa turned to ask her father a question.

"Father, are there any other heart trees around Winterfell?"

He looked confused at her question.

"There may be more in the Wolfswood, somewhere. Why do you ask?" He inquired, eyes full of curiosity.

"Oh," Sansa quickly tried to think of a good excuse, "They're just so beautiful – I wanted to do… an embroidery piece based of off them. I needed ideas…"

She could barely hold in a wince at how suspiciously her voice hesitated.

"Hmm, is that so? I thought you wanted to visit the godswood because you were interested in the old gods?" He looked amused.

"Show it to me once you finish it. I would like to see it." He nodded in emphasis at her.

She felt a wave of relief wash over her. It was foolish of her to be worried that he would know about her strange dreams, just from that.

Before they went their separate ways, Sansa thanked her father for bringing her to the trees. They never were able to spend much time together - she mostly spent it with her mother. It was a nice change. Maybe, she should do this more with him? She vowed to, as soon as she figured out her strange dreams.

* * *

It had been a month since she first started dreaming and not only had the frequency of the dreams increased, but also the fevers.

Her mother had noticed her mood swings and still seems to think it was about her newly emerging womanhood.

Sansa hadn't been as sure. Recently, she had told her mother about how she was worried it was something else – something worse.

Sansa's mother just comforted her by telling her stories about her own experience of becoming a woman and how horrible it felt at times.

Sansa, not for the first time, considered just going to the maester, but she was not sure at this point if her mother was right and it was just growing older. It would be so embarrassing if she was wrong. She could just imagine Arya mocking her ignorance. The thought left a bad taste in her mouth.

Sansa woke up from another one of the dreams and she decided to act - even if her plan was crazy.

She didn't even know if the grove of weirwood trees were real. But, she recognized the stream and a few of the landmarks in her dream from the Wolfswood – a hazy memory from when she accompanied her father and brothers on an outing in her younger years.

Maybe, the grove was a real place? Maybe, she could find it and end the nightmares once and for all.

She was going to find that tree, face it, and then her life would go back to normal.

Her plan, was to use the time between lessons and sup' to search in the woods. It wasn't too dark then and it gave her more than enough time to get back. She would prefer to take an escort, but telling her mother, was not an option. Not to mention, the only one of her siblings she felt close enough to ask to accompany her was Robb.

He would be curious though and wouldn't let the subject lie, until he knew why she suddenly was so interested in weirwood trees. He also knew her well enough not to believe the embroidery excuse. Then, she would have to tell him about her fever dreams. He was a boy; it would be too embarrassing if it _did_ end up being just womanly problems. How could she ever look at him again without dying of humiliation?

No, she could do this on her own. It wouldn't take that long anyway and if she didn't find anything, she promised to herself she would go to see the maester – no matter how uncomfortable it may make her.

* * *

It was not as easy to sneak out as she imagined it would be. The castle was surrounded by walls making it very easy to keep track of everyone coming and going. They would recognize her immediately. She wondered if Arya would know a way? Not that she could ask her.

She needed to search the Wolfswood forest – she had this weird feeling in her stomach every time she thought of it. It truly, seemed like the answer.

To get there, she needed to get through Winterfell and into Winter town, as she sadly couldn't take the Hunter's Gate out (she would be recognized immediately).

Bran knew Winterfell the best. He was known for climbing all over and exploring every last nook and cranny of it. Of any one of her siblings, he would know if there was another way out other than the East or Hunter's gate.

She anxiously pondered over how to ask him without seeming suspicious and was unable to come up with anything. Maybe, she could pretend to have an interest in his climbing? Get him talking about it and somehow lead him to what she wanted to ask. Still, she wasn't sure how to even go about connecting those subjects and would he even believe her if she did say she was interested?

She also didn't spend that much time with Bran – and usually only saw him at dinner. Not enough to have a private conversation like that. She felt a prick of jealousy towards Arya, who seemed to have a close relationship with each of their brothers.

Sansa sometimes felt like she was a lone wolf. She never realized how much she wanted someone she could share her secrets with, until now, when she actually had one.

Maybe, she could have that with her future husband? The idea warmed her stomach and she ended up wasting quite a bit of time day-dreaming rather than coming up with a plan.

* * *

It was dinner and while Sansa usually sat right beside her mother, she opted to settle near Bran. When she sat down the conversation stilled a bit in shock, but it started up again soon.

"Sansa!" Rickon shouted in delight from Bran's other side. Sansa smiled at him. Arya glared at her from across the table, at her place beside Robb. Theon raised his eyebrow and her half-brother, looked on in concealed amusement.

Bran started talking excitedly about his new sword lessons and Sansa tried to follow along.

"Ser Rodrick says my footwork is great – although I need to work on my form. He also says I may one day be as good as father – if I keep practicing!" Bran's chest puffed out in pride.

Their father chuckled at the head of the table and Arya mumbled something under her breath, but it went unheard.

"That's wonderful, Bran!" Sansa said hoping, that it was _truly_ , wonderful. Bran gave her a slightly suspicious look.

He continued to talk about his sword practice and Sansa spaced out momentarily.

"– I might be able to start using real steel in a year!"

Robb gave Bran an amused grin while he was chewing his food. Bran looked toward their father for his opinion.

Their father nodded in approval, "Just keep on practicing, Bran – that's the only way you can get better."

* * *

Bran never said anything about climbing the whole night. Sansa started to wonder if she should just come up with another plan.

She still continued, however, to sit with Bran at dinner the next few days and follow him around – hoping to overhear something or see him sneak out.

After a week, Bran approached her alone in the courtyard, on the way to her lessons.

"Why are you constantly sitting beside me and following me everywhere. Are you spying on me, for mother?" Bran asked annoyed.

Sansa's eyes widened in shock. He had noticed her following him?

"No… I wasn't spying on you!" She said hastily.

"Then what were you doing?" He looked confused.

"I – well… I wanted to just." Sansa hadn't ever thought about just asking him straight out. "I wanted to know how to get out of Winterfell without being noticed…" She winced at her lackluster phrasing.

Bran's eyebrows furrowed.

"Huh, really? Why?"

"I… wanted to go to Wintertown and look at some of the jewelry there."

"Why go off by yourself though? I'm sure Robb would take you."

Sansa inwardly sighed, it was time she told the partial truth.

"Sorry Bran – that was a lie. I actually want to go into the Wolfswood to search for a heart tree for… this embroidery piece I'm doing. I need more than just the one in the godswood." Sansa took a breath, "I know that you go off climbing by yourself alone often, so I followed you, hoping there was a way out that wasn't through the gates. I really need to see another weirwood tree…"

Bran frowned. "That's dangerous alone, Sansa. There is a way out that's like that, but…" He trailed off a contemplative look on his face.

"Really, where?!" Sansa exclaimed in excitement.

"I'm not going to tell you, Sansa. Not unless you take me with you."

Sansa stared at her younger brother in shock for a minute. It wasn't an unreasonable request and she _would_ prefer going with someone else.

"I-I… fine." She said, giving in.

"Alright! When do we go?" Bran asked.

"Between the end of our lessons and dinner – is tomorrow fine?"

"That's fine, I'll meet you outside the kitchens – beside the wolf statue tomorrow."

"Thank you so much, Bran…" Sansa trailed off, a slight smile on her face.

"You're welcome. Anyway, it'll be fun – like an adventure!" Bran exclaimed in excitement.

* * *

In the window, the reflection of her hair shined in the daylight, like a beacon. She only then realized it was too recognizable walking through Winterfell. She needed a cloak.

All of her hoods were covered in ornate embroidery and were much to obvious. Arya's old cloaks would be too small on her, especially with her recent growth spurt.

Borrowing one of Robb's seemed like the best idea, as she didn't have enough time today to make one. Never mind that she could go tomorrow or the day after. It _had_ to be today.

So after telling her Septa that she wanted to retire early and rest up a bit before eating, she ran up to Robb's empty room and managed to snag an old hooded cloak. The longer she spent in there rooting around looking for anything inconspicuous that could cover her hair, the louder she could hear the blood pump in her ears. She ended up making it out of Robb's chambers without running into him.

Sansa quietly pulled the piece of clothing over her shoulders in a shadowed corner. The hood covered her hair entirely, as well as half of her face. The length was a bit too long but not enough that she couldn't walk.

Sansa's heart started beating faster. She was excited and scared about going on the outing to find the tree plaguing her nightmares. It all felt like an adventure in a song. Maybe, she would meet a handsome knight who fell in love with her instantly? She couldn't help but sigh dreamily.

She was thankful Bran was coming along with her – she would have been even more afraid if she had gone alone. Sansa was surprised he even volunteered and didn't just tell on her. They weren't that close – so she assumed he wouldn't want to take her, one of the reasons she hadn't considered asking him in the first place.

Sansa, realizing she was late, rushed to the courtyard outside the kitchens, and found her younger brother standing beneath the wolf statue.

"Hi, Sansa!" Bran said with a smile.

Sansa smiled back, "Hello, Bran."

"We're ready to go, I think."

He straightened his cloak a bit, revealing a small dagger on his belt.

"Why are you bringing a dagger!?" She blurted out in horror.

"I don't have a real sword yet, and we might run into wildlings!"

Sansa thought Bran looked way to excited at the prospect.

She bit her lip. Sansa hadn't considered meeting any wildlings. She mildly contemplated not going, but quickly reminded herself that she needed to do this so she could be normal again.

"Alright, show me the way, Bran."

* * *

AN

Hi, I'm starting a new fanfiction! Although, I probably won't be able to update again for awhile because of school...


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